


the other half's luck

by cinderlily



Series: funny how everything can change [2]
Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: Being 20 weeks pregnant with a cold is pretty much the worst, but Ginny has her family to brighten her day.





	the other half's luck

Ginny was curled on the couch, her eyes on the TV and her brain fuzzed out. Having a cold while pregnant was legitimately a new form of torture. She was feeling horrible and her doctor had given her permission to take pretty much nothing. She had gotten a flood of “natural” help from her friends, who were dirty liars and should know that. 

On top of all that she still had morning sickness. Or all day sickness. And it was the nearly her 20-week appointment. She called shenanigans on it all. 

But she was getting caught up on all the gloriously horrible TV she missed during the season, which was a plus. She had to tilt her head in a certain way to keep herself from only breathing from her mouth but whatever. There was a TLC marathon of ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ and that was all she needed. 

She heard the click of the garage door, followed by the ding of the security and then the fast little tapping of feet down the hallway. The feet stopped and she heard a familiar annoyed five year old. Her daughter definitely got her attitude, if nothing else. Or maybe Mike’s. Sometimes it was hard to tell. 

A minute later she heard ‘quiet’ creeping feet from behind her and she closed one eye and let the other open just a little bit. She waited for the inevitable noise of breathing in front of her. 

“I think she’s sleeping, Bills,” Mike whispered. “Let’s let her rest. Remember. She’s not feeling so good.” 

And even though she felt like trash and probably could get away with a nice nap, she opened both eyes wide and grabbed at her daughter.

Billie instantly started to wiggle in her arms, her hair going everywhere and her laugh echoing around the living room. Ginny tickled her tummy and blew kisses on her neck. 

“Feeling better?” Mike asked from behind her. 

She turned to look at him and he put both hands up. She apparently didn’t look that amazing. He didn’t say anything aloud though because he was a good husband who found his bed comfortable. 

“How was practice?” she asked, turning to her daughter. 

“Mom, Dad can’t do my hair,” she said, hands on her hips and her voice so put upon. “Lena’s mom ended up doing it and _she_ didn’t do it right. It was too tight, mom. Can you get better now?” 

Ginny sighed, looking at her daughter’s messy hair and trying her best not to laugh. She had somehow gotten the curls of Ginny and the thick craziness from Mike and it had been an adventure to tame them ever since. 

“I’m working on it, Silly-Billie.” 

Mike moved around and sat on a chair nearby. “She did so well though. She got a goal and an assist.” 

Billie beamed. “I got a Gordie Howe Hat Trick.” 

“A what?” 

Mike put a hand up to his eyes and then gave his daughter a small smile. “Remember when we said we were going to keep that part between daddy and you?” 

“Lawson, what’s a Gordie Howe Hat Trick?” The edge of her annoyance was lessened by the fact that her nose was so stuffed it barely got some of the words out. 

If she could freeze frame that moment of Mike’s face she would probably have it on her phone as the background. It was a mixture of pride and pure guilt. 

“She might have started a little bit of a fight,” Mike said, looking directly at the coffee table. 

Billie stamped her foot. “I didn’t start it. The other girl tripped me. ON PURPOSE.” 

“Willa Michelle, what did I say about fights?” Ginny said, sitting up a little bit more. 

“Ladies don’t start it, but they can finish them?” 

Mike _lost_ it. He tilted his head back as far as it would go and howled at the ceiling. It was… well. It was hard as hell for Ginny not to join in. They’d watched the Aristocats exactly one time, the fact that she knew that was pure and absolute chance. 

“That is all you, Baker,” Mike said when he could get it back together. “She’s feisty.” 

She couldn’t even fault him for it. She’d never been one to shy away from a fight, even though most of the times guys didn’t engage because ‘ _girl_ ’ which was ridiculous as there were 8 other girls in the league but whatever. She moved to a seated position and looked at her daughter. 

“Baby girl,” she said in her soft but stern voice. “Go to your room and think about what you are going to say to the coach next time you see her.” 

“But moooooom, I didn’t start it.” 

She glared, hard, and Billie sighed dramatically and half stomped her way to her bedroom. Ginny figured it had to be pretty bad as she could hear the stomps and the slight slam of the door. She really was her kid. 

“Hockey, she likes _hockey_ ,” Ginny sighed. “Couldn’t she like… I don’t know… anything else?” 

Mike shrugged. “She was telling me in the car she wants to be a ballerina so we still got a chance.” 

“NO!” Ginny said. “Have you seen ‘Dance Moms’? Those kids are terrible.” 

Mike gave her a look. “You need to get out of this house soon.” 

“Tell your son that,” she sighed. “Or whatever village of bacteria has moved into my nose.” 

With a soft smile, Mike walked over and knelt down with a loud woof and a little crack of the knees. He leaned down to her stomach and touched both sides. She swore that it was twice as big as it had been with Billie but she was told that she was being dramatic. 

“Okay kid,” he said. “I am really rooting for a good name for you, and I promise to nix your mom’s insistence on the bad ones if you just quit it with the nausea thing.” 

“I don’t have any bad names,” she said. “You’re just boring.” 

Mike looked up at her with a quirked eyebrow. “Truman.” 

“What? Lincoln was popular for a while. Plus, Truman Capote? And we could call him Tru.” 

He rubbed his hands on the belly again, receiving a kick he couldn’t feel quite yet in response. “Come on, little man. You could be so many cool names. Just stop making her puke all the time.” 

“If I didn’t distinctly feel like death right now, I would find your rookie pictures and post them all over social media. Even the almost mullet years.” 

“You liked my mullet,” he teased. “It was on your wall.” 

She shook her head. “I ignored those years.” 

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes and smiled. “I’m getting up now before I can’t.” 

She bit one side of her lip. “Can you grab me…?”

“Mango sorbet?” 

“Yes. And a spoon. Please?” 

He made a noise like he got punched in the gut as he stood up but then hobbled into the kitchen, returning to the front room with a container of sorbet and a fork. 

“I still think Henry.” 

“So we can have Henry Aaron and a Willie Mays reference.” 

He shrugged. “Baseball is good. It’s how we met. Henry Baker-Lawson. Think of it. Now coming up to bat, number 34, _Hammering Hank Baker-Lawson_.” He followed it with fake cheers from the crowd and she stared him down. 

“If my son is ever called Hank, it will be over my dead body.” 

The baby shimmied in her stomach. She took it as an agreement.

**Author's Note:**

> No, seriously. You get a cold when you're pregnant and you are pretty much screwed. It sucks. Man. 
> 
> Also, Henry is my son's name and I don't care if we ARE Jewish and if he DOES play baseball, he will not be Hammering Hank the Heb 2. Even Henry Aaron hated the name "Hank". Look it up. 
> 
> Title From Michael Bublé "Haven't Met You Yet"


End file.
